The throne room felt colder than the night outside. Sera stood with the spelt chains weighing on her wrists, very aware of the guards positioned throughout the room, of Elara's hostile stare boring into her back, of Lucien standing rigid beside her.

Most of all, she was aware of King Matthias studying her with those ancient eyes, calculating and cold. "Lucien," the king said finally. "Would you care to explain why you've brought a witch into my palace? Into my presence? At midnight?"

"Your Majesty-" Lucien started.

"And not just any witch, from what I'm sensing." With predatory grace, Matthias rose slowly from his throne and descended the steps. "One you've... bonded to?"

The gathered guards felt astonishment as the words dropped like stones into quiet water.

Sera heard whispers, gasps. Beside her, Lucien's shoulders tightened.

"Yes," he replied simply.

Matthias paused a few feet away, glancing between Sera and his son. Sera sensed danger emanating from him like scorching heat, even if his countenance was unreadable. This vampire had ruled for generations, putting down uprisings and keeping his people under strict supervision. You should not undervalue this person.

"Remarkable," Matthias said. "And how exactly did this happen?"

"I don't know," Lucien said. "The Crimson Room was close to her.

The bond manifested when we saw each other. I pursued, captured her, and brought her here because..." He trailed off, seeming to struggle for words. "Because the bond wouldn't let you kill her," Matthias finished. "Even though that's what protocol demands. What four centuries of law demand.

What my grandfather's memory requires."

Sera forced herself to talk even though her lips were dry. "I didn't want this either."

She felt the tangible weight of Matthias's attention as his focus suddenly shifted to her. "I don't recall giving you permission to speak, witch."

"I don't recall asking for it."

Before she could stop them, the words had already been spoken. Elara let out what sounded like a choked swear. The hands of several guards shifted to their firearms. However, Sera had had enough of being scared and cowering. She would die on her own terms if it was inevitable.

Matthias surprised her by grinning.

It wasn't a kind expression. "Brave," he said. "Or foolish. With your kind, it's often hard to tell the difference." He circled her slowly, assessing. "What's your name?" "Sera Thorne." She oversaw his reaction. If he recognised her family name, recognised the connection to Morgana, he didn't show it.

Though given that Morgana had been executed four centuries ago, her family name might mean nothing to him now. "And what brought you to vampire territory tonight, Sera Thorne?" Matthias asked. "Surely you know that witches found here are killed on sight. Were you on some mission for your resistance? Spying? Planning sabotage?" "I was following the mate bond," Sera said honestly.

When the truth was imprinted on her and Lucien, there was no need to lie. "I tried to resist it, tried to go home, but it pulled me here."

"Convenient," Elara said behind them.

Matthias held up a hand for silence. "The mate bond can't be faked. That much I know. But it also hasn't manifested between our kinds since..." He paused meaningfully. "Well.

The last time a vampire and witch foolishly believed in such a bond, we all know what happened."

Sera exclaimed, "My ancestor was innocent," before she could stop herself.

The room's temperature appeared to drop by ten degrees. There was no longer any softness in Matthias's countenance as he turned to completely face her.

"Your ancestor?"

"Morgana Thorne," Sera murmured, raising her chin. "King Aldric was not killed by her. She was set up.

There was complete stillness after that. The guards appeared to have stopped breathing as well. Through the bond, Sera sensed Lucien's disbelief and his immediate defensive rage at her charge.

Matthias let out a low, humourless laugh. "I understand. You are a descendant of the witch who killed my grandfather, in addition to having a bond with my son. The symmetry is nearly poetic.

"She didn't murder him," Sera maintained. "The trial was a fraud. The evidence was suppressed. Just have a look at-"

"Enough."

Matthias's voice broke like a whip. "During my entire life, I witnessed my father's grief for his father. That murder and its treachery weighed heavily on me as I grew up. And you dare tell me it was all a lie while standing in chains in my palace?"

"Yes," Sera replied, her heart pounding. "Because it was."

She worried for a long time that he might end her own life. She noticed his fangs slightly expand as his hands flexed at his sides. Then, though, he inhaled and showed signs of self-control.

"Lucien," he uttered while maintaining eye contact with Sera.

"A word. Alone." "Your Majesty-" "Now."

After a moment of hesitation, Lucien followed his father to a side entrance. He looked back at Sera before he left, and she saw his turmoil through the bond-angry at her allegation, worried about her, confused about everything.

After that, they vanished, leaving Sera alone with Elara and twelve antagonistic guards.

Elara moved forward right away, drawing near enough for Sera to see the sparkles of gold in her amber eyes. "Are you not actually descended from her? The witch who murdered our king.

"She didn't-"

"Save it," Elara interrupted. "Your conspiracy theories don't concern me. I'm concerned that you've put Lucien in a bond that will kill him.

Just like it got Aldric killed."

"I didn't trap anyone," Sera retorted. "I didn't ask for this. This is not what I wanted.

"Then why didn't you run?" Elara made a demand. "When you sensed the bond, why didn't you leave the city? What brought you here?

Sera had been asking herself the same question, so it was reasonable. She had followed the pull, but why? Why hadn't she packed everything and left as soon as she sensed it?

"Because I'm tired of running," she finally replied. "Because I've lived my entire life pretending to be someone I'm not, hiding who I am, and denying my power. And I thought when I sensed the connection. Unsure of how to describe it, she drifted off.

"You thought what?"

Elara pressed. "That maybe there was a reason. That maybe if the bond exists, if it's pulling me toward a vampire despite everything, there might be something bigger at work. Something that could change things." Elara stared at her for a long moment.

"You actually believe that. You actually think you and Lucien are going to end the war? Bring peace between our kinds? Just like Aldric and Morgana tried to do?" "They didn't try to do anything," Sera said. "They didn't get the chance. Someone killed Aldric before they could." "Morgana killed him!" "No." Sera's voice was firm. "Someone else did.

Someone who was against peace. We are all doomed to repeat this cycle indefinitely if no one ever considers the reality and everyone simply continues to believe the lie.

Elara's expression briefly changed; it wasn't precisely agreement, but perhaps a crack in her confidence. Before she could reply, Lucien and Matthias came back via the side entrance.

Lucien appeared tight and upset, but the king's countenance was unreadable. Their conversation had not gone well.

"I've made a decision," Matthias declared. "You are accused of breaking into vampire territory, which carries a death sentence, Sera Thorne.

But I'm willing to be merciful because of the... unique circumstances."

His following words made Sera's heart skip a beat.

"You will be kept here, in the palace, under constant guard. You will be questioned about which resistance movements, about your people's plans, about everything you know. And then, once we've determined you're no longer useful, you will be executed."

"Father-" Lucien started. "Unless," Matthias continued, raising a hand, "you can prove your claim. You say Morgana Thorne didn't kill my grandfather? Fine. Prove it. You have one month. If you can show me evidence-real, verifiable evidence-that my grandfather was murdered by someone other than his witch mate, I'll spare your life."

It was a trap, Sera realized. There was no evidence. Everything had been destroyed or hidden four hundred years ago. Even the letter she'd found tonight was just a fragment, barely legible, indeed not enough to prove anything. Matthias was offering her false hope while giving himself time to extract information and plan an execution that wouldn't destabilise the mate bond's effects on Lucien. But it was also an opening. A month was better than immediate death.

"I accept," she said. "Good." Matthias looked at Lucien. "You will oversee her custody. She stays in the east wing, under guard at all times. You may work with her on this investigation, since you're apparently unable to keep away due to the bond. But Lucien-" His voice hardened.

"Don't mistake my mercy for approval. If she can't prove her claims, she dies. Mate bond or not. Am I clear?" "Crystal," Lucien said quietly. "Excellent. Now get her out of my sight. I need to think about how to explain this disaster to the council." Guards moved forward to escort Sera away.

She noticed Matthias observing her with a look she couldn't quite decipher as they brought her to the door. It may be a calculation. It could be something more intricate.

They proceeded up several flights of stairs and through several hallways before arriving at what appeared to be the east wing. Here, the hallways were more domestic and quieter.

Finally, they stopped at a door. "Your chambers," one guard said, unlocking it. Sera stepped inside and was surprised by what she found. This wasn't a cell. It was a suite-sitting room, bedroom visible through another door, tall windows that looked out over the city. Furnished comfortably, even luxuriously. Her prison was nicer than her actual apartment. "The windows are warded," Lucien said from behind her. "Don't try to escape through them.

There will be 24-hour security at the door. Unless you need to eat or take a bath, in which case guards will be present, your chains will remain in place."

Sera looked up at him. The realization that they were alone for the first time since the mate bond had bound them together hovered between them.

"So you're my jailer," she remarked.

"I'm trying to keep you alive," he clarified.

"My father wanted to execute you immediately. I convinced him to give you this chance." "How generous of you."

His jaw clenched. "You have no idea what you've done. The position you've put me in. King Aldric is my ancestor. Every vampire is familiar with the tale of how his witch lover killed him and how trust and love led to his demise. And now I have a bond with a witch who insists she was innocent and says she is descended from that same murderer. Do you know what this looks like?

"About as bad as how it looks for me," Sera retorted. Bonded with a vampire whose great-great-grandfather was purportedly murdered by my ancestor. Imprisoned in the palace of the king, who has been pursuing my people for four hundred years.

I'm not exactly having a great night either."

They gazed at one another, their connection drawing them closer even as mistrust and rage drove them apart. Through the bond, Sera could sense his feelings: dread, frustration, and, behind it all, an unwelcome attraction that reflected her own.

She detested how attractive she found him. She hated the fact that, while being chained and imprisoned, a part of her yearned to be nearer to him and experience the bond's completion.

"This won't work," she said.

"Your father's challenge. There's no evidence left after four hundred years. He knows that. This is just a slower execution." "Then we'll have to find evidence," Lucien said. "You mentioned proof. What did you mean?" Sera hesitated. She'd left her bag at the archive when she ran-stupid, panicked decision.

The letter fragment was in that bag. By now, the building would be locked for the night. "I found something tonight," she admitted. "A partial letter that suggests someone else was involved in Aldric's death. But I left it behind when I ran from you." "Where?" "The city archives.

In my bag, in the basement level where the old records are kept." Lucien considered this. "I can send someone to retrieve it tomorrow." "No." Sera shook her head. "The archives are human territory, neutral ground.

If vampires start searching it, people will notice and ask questions. And the letter is fragile. If someone handles it wrong, it could fall apart completely."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Let me go back," Sera murmured. "During business hours tomorrow. I'll go get it myself. If you'd like, you can accompany me; just be careful."

"You think I'd let you out of the palace?" Lucien had a disbelieving expression. "You'd run the moment we hit the street."

"Where would I go?"

Sera asked. "You've felt the bond. You know how strong it is. I can't run from you-not really. The pull would bring me back."

She saw him think about this and accept the truth. Neither of them could separate from the other due to the bond. The charmed metal around her wrists was not as effective as this chain.

Finally, "I'll think about it," he said. "You should get some rest in the meantime. We'll begin organizing a response to your implausible assertion tomorrow.

Sera's words stopped him as he turned to walk away.

"Lucien." He paused. "Thank you. For keeping me alive tonight."

His expression was complex as he turned to face her again. "Don't thank me just yet. We have a month to establish that the most well-known murder story in our history did not occur as everyone believes, something no one has done in four centuries. I can't stop my father from putting you to death if we fail. It won't matter about the bond. Nothing will.

"I know."

"And even if we succeed," he went on, "even if we manage to establish Morgana's innocence, that doesn't mean we have a future." There is still fighting amongst our types.

We're still enemies."

"I know that too."

Something briefly passed between them, perhaps a mutual realization of how unfeasible their circumstances were. Then Lucien shut the door behind him and left. Sera heard guards positioning themselves outside and listened to the lock click.

She was alone.

Sera went to the window and gazed down at the city. Unaware that one of their own was imprisoned in the vampire castle, Rowan and the other witches would be living their secret lives somewhere. Without being aware of the challenge, the mate bond, or anything else.

She ought to be afraid.

And she was part of her. But another part, the part that had spent three years researching in archives and believing in truth, felt something else. Hope. She had a month.

Thirty days to find evidence that had eluded everyone for four hundred years.

Thirty days to demonstrate that her ancestor was innocent, that the war was based on a falsehood, and that perhaps-just possibly-the mate bond had brought her and Lucien together.

It was not feasible.

However, Sera had always been drawn to impossibilities.

But Sera had always been drawn to impossible things.

She felt the enchanted chains dampen her power as she touched them on her wrists. She would have to persuade Lucien to allow her to visit the archives tomorrow. She would have to locate that letter piece, thoroughly examine it, and determine whether there are any further hints.

With enemies on all sides and a ticking clock leading up to her death, she would have to solve a murder that occurred before she was ever born.

She could see the sun starting to paint the horizon through the window. Dawn was approaching. A fresh day marked the beginning of what could be her final month.

Sera grimaced. If she had to die, at least it would be while pursuing the truth.

Her grandmother would have been in favour.

Through the bond, she sensed Lucien's presence somewhere in the palace; he was awake, agitated, and grappling with the same impractical circumstance. For a moment, their thoughts met, and she sensed his resolve reflecting her own.

This could have been. This could have been doomed from the start. But they had one month to rewrite history. And Sera had never backed down from a challenge, no matter how impossible it seemed.

When Sera awoke, a guard was bringing breakfast, and sunlight was streaming in through the windows. She felt half-alive, unable to use her magic because the spelled chains remained on her wrists.

She picked at the eggs, toast, and fruit-costlier than her weekly pay. Everything tasted like ash.

Midmorning, Lucien entered. He looked sleepless, sleeves rolled, hair unkempt-less a menacing prince, more a man ensnared by circumstance.

He stated, "We need to talk about the archives," without any introduction.

"Good morning to you too."

He was not laughing. "I talked to my dad. He has consented to your obtaining the letter, but there are restrictions.

"Of course there are."

After dragging a chair over, Lucien leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "You'll be constantly watched.

Elara and two others will accompany us. You'll wear the chains the entire time. And if you try anything-anything at all-they have orders to subdue you by whatever means necessary."

"How reassuring."

"I'm serious, Sera. There are vampires on the council who wanted you dead immediately. My father is taking a risk keeping you alive. Don't make him regret it."

She met his eyes. "I won't run. I told you that."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because of this." She pointed to the unseen connection that neither of them could dispute. "Don't you feel it too? How uncomfortable is it to be apart?

I spent all night feeling you awake somewhere in this palace, restless and worried. I couldn't sleep either."

His expression shifted, just slightly. "The bond isn't proof of loyalty."

"No. But it's proof that I can't just leave. Even if I wanted to." She paused. "Do you really think I'm lying? About the letter, about Morgana being innocent?"

For a long time, Lucien remained silent. His voice was cautious as he talked. "I think you have faith in what you're saying. It remains to be seen if it proves to be true.

"Fair enough."

Sera stood, moving to the window.

Unaware that a witch was imprisoned in the palace above them, people went about their daily lives in the sprawling city below. "When do we leave?"

"One hour. Wear proper clothing; avoid drawing attention to yourself.

Sera looked at the wardrobe that someone had stocked after he departed. Simple yet well-made clothing. She pulled her copper hair into a ponytail and opted for dark trousers and a simple pullover. With shackles on her wrists and fatigue beneath her eyes, she hardly recognized herself when she looked in the mirror.

She had been an archivist leading a quiet, secret existence three days prior. She was now at the center of something that could either put an end to the conflict or result in the deaths of everyone she held dear.

The guards arrived in time to apprehend her.

Elara was one of them, her expression professional and icy. On either side of her were two unfamiliar male vampires.

Lucien was waiting in the courtyard in a sleek, black, clearly wealthy automobile. Elara gave him a stern look as he opened the door for Sera himself.

It was a quiet, nervous trip to the archives. Sera was conscious of every vampire watching her through the tinted windows as she watched the city go by. She was clearly marked as a prisoner by the written chains. Everyone in the district would be aware that the Nightguard had apprehended a witch by tonight.

The archives had the same appearance as before.

Normal. Safe. Sera felt a pang of longing for her old life, boring as it had been.

"I need to go in alone," she said as they pulled up. "The basement is restricted access. If guards come with me, staff will ask questions."

"Not happening," Elara said immediately.

"Then how do you suggest we do this?" Sera turned to Lucien. "I'm known there. I work there. But if I show up with an entourage of vampires, someone's going to call security or the police."

Lucien considered. "Elara and I will come with you. The others stay with the car. We'll say we're researchers if anyone asks."

"With me in chains?"

He pulled a jacket from the back seat. "Wear this. It'll cover your wrists."

The jacket was his; it was too large for her and had a scent that made the bond hum with approval. Sera followed him inside, jamming her shackled hands into the pockets.

The main floor was busy with morning researchers.

A few others gave them a quick glance, but most were too focused on their work to notice. With her heart racing, Sera guided them to the staff elevator. Since last night, this was the closest she had been to freedom. Even though I knew it would be useless, there was a tremendous urge to run.

The basement was dimmer and colder. With papers strewn all over the desk, books piled dangerously, and her bag on the ground, her workspace in the corner appeared exactly as she had left it.

"There," she pointed.

Sera stopped Elara from reaching for it.

"Careful. The letter's fragile.

It could break apart if you jostle it incorrectly.

"Then you get it," Lucien remarked.

Sera bent down and carefully opened her suitcase. Tucked under a folder she'd grabbed in her hurry, the letter fragment was still there. The ancient paper threatened to crumble at the slightest pressure as she carefully peeled it out.

Lucien stepped forward and peered over her shoulder. She could feel his breath on her neck, and the closeness strengthened their link. She told herself to concentrate. The time is not right.

He said, "What does it say?"

Sera tilted the page so he could see it. The majority of it is too damaged to read.

But these parts..." She pointed. "Someone is talking about giving Aldric a blade. About making it look like the witch's doing. About not wanting peace."

She watched his face as he read, watched doubt flicker across his features. He didn't want to believe it. Four hundred years of history said his ancestor was the victim of witch treachery. But the words on the page were hard to dismiss.

"It's not signed," Elara said from behind them. "Could be about anything. Any blade, any witch, any situation."

"Dated October 1624," Sera countered. "One month before Aldric's death. And found in records from his private correspondence. The timing isn't coincidence."

"It's not enough," Lucien said finally. "You know it's not enough to prove anything."

"I know. But it's a start." Sera looked up at him. "Someone wrote this. Someone who knew about the murder before it happened. If we can figure out who, trace their connections, their motives-"

"We find the real killer," Lucien finished. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, something passed between them. Not trust, exactly. But maybe the beginning of it.

Elara made a disgusted sound. "You're actually considering this. She shows you one convenient piece of paper and you're ready to question everything."

"I'm considering all possibilities," Lucien stated in a harsh voice. "Which is more than you're doing."

Tension was high between the two vampires as they gazed at one another. Through the relationship, Sera had felt their shared history-centuries of companionship and side-by-side combat.

This was causing a rift that might never heal.

"We should go," Sera said quietly. "Before someone notices we're here."

The trip back to the palace was even more silent than the trip out. Sera held the letter fragment carefully, aware that this fragile piece of paper was her only real evidence. The only thing standing between her and execution.

Back in her chambers, Lucien helped her set up a workspace. He brought books from the palace library-histories, records, anything that might be relevant. He even brought a magnifying glass and better lighting for examining the damaged letter.

"Thank you," Sera said as he set the last stack of books down.

He paused at the door. "Don't thank me yet. We have twenty-nine days left. And this-" He gestured at the letter. "This isn't going to convince my father or the council. We need more."

"I know."

After he left, Sera spread the letter fragment on the desk, studying every word, every pen stroke. Whoever wrote this knew Aldric was going to die. Knew how it would be done. Knew enough to make it look like Morgana's crime.

The question was: who?

And could she find the answer before her time ran out?

Two days into the investigation, and Sera was ready to scream.

The books Lucien brought were mostly useless—sanitized histories that painted vampires as noble victims and witches as treacherous villains. Nothing about Aldric's proposed reforms. Nothing about dissent in his council. Nothing contradicts the official story.

She'd read the letter fragment so many times she had it memorized. The handwriting was old-fashioned, done with a quill. Whoever wrote it had education and status. But that described half the vampire nobility in 1624.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. Lucien entered without waiting for an answer, carrying more books.

"Anything?" he asked.

"No. You?"

He set the books down. "I accessed my family's private archives last night. Found correspondence between my grandfather and his father about Aldric. Most of it's just grief and rage after the murder. But there's one thing."

Sera looked up. "What?"

"A letter from Aldric to his son, written two weeks before he died. He mentions feeling unsafe. Says some council members opposed his plans for the kingdom's future."

"What plans?"

"He doesn't specify. Just says he's meeting resistance and fears it might become dangerous." Lucien pulled out a copied page. "Here. 'My son, if anything happens to me, know that I acted for the good of both our people. Some refuse to see reason, and I fear their hatred runs deeper than I hoped.'"

Sera took the page and read it carefully. "Both our people. He means vampires and witches."

"Possibly."

"Definitely." She pointed at the phrase. "He was planning something that would benefit both species. Something his council opposed. That's motive for murder."

Lucien sat on the edge of the desk. "It's still not proof. And it doesn't tell us who actually did it."

"No, but it's a pattern. The letter fragment suggests that the writer does not want peace. Aldric talks about resistance to his plans for 'both our people.'

Before he could bring the species together, someone on his council wanted him dead."

"You're making logical leaps."

"I'm connecting dots," Sera clarified. "We must ascertain who served on Aldric's council in 1624. Who stood to lose the most if vampires and witches were at peace?

For a while, Lucien remained silent. "The royal archives would contain that information.

Records my father controls."

"Can you access them?"

"Maybe. If I'm careful."

He looked her in the eye. "You know what you're asking? If my father discovers that I'm looking into the death of his grandfather, treating it more like an open case than a resolved historical matter—"He'll be upset.

I know."

"He'll think the bond has compromised my judgment. That you've manipulated me somehow." Lucien's voice was tight. "I've spent centuries earning his trust, proving my loyalty. This could destroy that."

Sera stood, moving closer. The bond hummed between them, stronger every day. "Then why are you helping me?"

"Because..." He trailed off, jaw clenching. "Because I've read that letter ten times now. And the handwriting bothers me."

"What about it?"

"It's familiar.

Somewhere in the palace records, I've already seen it. He appeared irritated. "I know I've seen that particular kind of letter formation, but I'm not sure where. The script's slant and the flourish on the capital letters

Sera's pulse quickened. "We'd have our murderer if you could identify whose handwriting it is.

Or at least an accomplice." Lucien stood. "I'll search tonight. My father's in council meetings until late. That gives me a few hours."

"I should come with you."

"Definitely not. You are limited to this wing. Guards would believe you are attempting to flee if they see you walking the palace."

"After that, bring copies of everything you discover to me.

Anything with handwriting samples, council records, correspondence—"

"I know what to look for," Lucien said. He didn't sound harsh, though. Almost soft. "You must get some rest. You haven't slept much since coming here."

He was correct. Her eyelids burned from exhaustion, which tugged at her bones. However, sleep meant squandering time.

"Twenty-seven days left," she stated.

"I know."

He moved toward the door, paused. "Sera. If we don't find proof, if this doesn't work—"

"We will."

"But if we don't," he pressed. "My father won't show mercy. The bond won't stop him from ordering your execution."

"I know that too." She managed a tired smile. "Guess we better find proof then."

Sera made an effort to concentrate on the literature when he departed. However, her thoughts kept returning to the exchange and to Lucien's expression when he said the handwriting was recognizable. Now he was truly assisting her. investigating rather than only going through the motions due to the link.

That ought to have been comforting. Rather, it scared her. Because she wouldn't be the only one to suffer if they failed. Lucien would lose his father's respect and possibly his job. All because, despite four hundred years of vampire history, he had decided to believe a witch.

Sometime after midnight, she dozed off at the desk with her head resting on her arms and the letter fragment neatly placed in its folder next to her.

The next morning brought unexpected visitors.

Sera was eating breakfast when Elara entered, accompanied by an older vampire she didn't recognize. He wore formal robes that suggested high rank, and his eyes were cold as they assessed her.

"Councilor Thaddeus," Elara said. "He has questions."

Sera set down her fork slowly. "About what?"

"Your research." Thaddeus moved closer, his movements precise. "Prince Lucien has been accessing restricted archives. Making inquiries about historical records. The king wants to know why."

"He's helping me investigate Aldric's murder. You knew that."

"We knew he was humoring your delusions," Thaddeus corrected. "We didn't realize he was taking them seriously. Or that he was digging into sealed records without proper authorization."

Sera's stomach dropped. They'd caught Lucien.

"What happened?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.

"He was found in the royal archives last night, going through documents that haven't been touched in centuries." Thaddeus smiled, showing fangs. "He claimed to be conducting research for your investigation. Is that true?"

It was a trap. If she said yes, she'd confirm that Lucien was compromised, acting against his father's interests. If she said no, she'd make him look like he was lying.

"I asked him to look for information," Sera said carefully. "About the historical context of the murder. He was trying to help me meet the king's challenge."

"How convenient." Thaddeus pulled out a folder. "He was specifically searching for records of council members from 1624. For correspondence between them and King Aldric. Why would that be relevant unless you're suggesting one of them was involved?"

"Because understanding the political climate at the time helps establish motive and opportunity."

"For Morgana Thorne, you mean. The witch who confessed to the murder."

Sera's hands clenched under the table. "She confessed under torture. Those confessions are worthless."

"Are they? Or is that simply what you need to believe?" Thaddeus leaned forward. "Tell me, Miss Thorne. What exactly do you hope to accomplish here? Even if you could prove—impossibly—that someone else killed King Aldric, it wouldn't change anything. The war has been going on for four centuries. Too much blood has been spilled. Your people have killed thousands of ours. We've killed thousands of yours. No ancient murder mystery will undo that."

"Maybe not. But it might stop the next four hundred years of killing."

"Noble sentiment. Naive, but noble." He straightened. "The king wants you to know that Prince Lucien will no longer be involved in your investigation. He has duties to the kingdom that take precedence over entertaining your theories. You'll continue your research alone."

"No." The word came out before Sera could stop it.

Elara's hand went to her weapon. "Excuse me?"

"The king gave me one month to prove my claim. He never said I had to do it alone." Sera stood, facing Thaddeus directly. "If you want to change the terms, tell him to come say it to my face."

For a long moment, the room was silent. Then Thaddeus laughed—a cold, humorless sound.

"You have courage. Foolish courage, but courage nonetheless." He moved toward the door. "Very well. I'll convey your message to His Majesty. I'm sure he'll be fascinated to hear that his prisoner is making demands."

After they left, Sera sank back into her chair, adrenaline making her hands shake. That had been stupid. Reckless. But she couldn't let them separate her from Lucien, not when they were finally making progress.

The bond pulsed with his frustration somewhere in the palace. He'd felt the confrontation through their connection, felt her defiance and fear.

An hour later, he appeared at her door, looking furious.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded. "Challenging my father through Thaddeus? Do you have a death wish?"

"I was thinking that we're running out of time and they're trying to sabotage us." Sera crossed her arms. "Did you find anything last night before they caught you?"

His expression shifted. "Yes."

"Show me."

He pulled papers from inside his jacket—copies, hastily made. "Council records from 1624. I didn't have time to go through them all, but I grabbed what I could." He spread them on the desk. "Look at this one."

It was a formal letter, addressed to King Aldric. Sera's eyes caught on the signature: Silas Greythorne, Councilor.

Then she saw the handwriting.

The flourish on the capital letters. The specific slant of the script. The way certain letters are connected.

"It's the same," she breathed. "The letter fragment—this is the same handwriting."

Lucien nodded grimly. "Silas Greythorne wrote that letter. He knew Aldric was going to die because he was planning it."

"Who is he? Was he?"

"One of Aldric's most trusted advisors. He was at the murder scene, one of the first to arrive after Morgana's screams. His testimony at her trial was damning—he described the scene in detail, swore she was holding the bloody knife."

Sera's mind raced. "He framed her. Set the whole thing up, made sure he'd be the first witness so he could control the narrative."

"It looks that way."

"Then we have our proof. This is it." She grabbed the papers. "We can take this to your father, show him—"

"Show him what?" Lucien interrupted. "That a man who died three hundred years ago might have been involved in his grandfather's murder? Silas is dead, Sera. Long dead. There's no one to accuse, no justice to be had."

"But it proves Morgana was innocent. That she was framed."

"Maybe." Lucien's voice was heavy. "But it also raises questions we can't answer. Like why Silas did it. What he had to gain. And whether he acted alone or had help."

Sera looked at the council records spread across the desk. "Then we find those answers. We have twenty-six days left. We can do this."

"Can we?" Lucien moved closer, his expression pained. "Or are we just delaying the inevitable? Even if we prove everything you believe, what happens then? You think my father will apologize for four centuries of war? You think our people will suddenly embrace peace because of something that happened before any of us were born?"

"I think the truth matters. Even if it's complicated. Even if it doesn't fix everything." Sera met his eyes. "Don't you?"

He didn't answer. But through the bond, she felt his conflict—duty warring with growing doubt, loyalty fighting against an uncomfortable truth that refused to stay buried.